Blood of the Unicorns
by chaletian
Summary: ...or Harry Potter and the Potions Professor. At the start of the Fifth Year, Harry, Ron and Hermione are back at Hogwarts. But the war against Voldemort is growing closer, and Professor Snape seems to have disappeared.
1. Prologue

**BLOOD OF THE UNICORNS   
or Harry Potter and the Potions Professor**

By: Liss Havilland (lisette@chaletian.co.uk)   
Rating: PG-13   
Disclaimer: Harry Potter etc belong to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros, and whoever else lays claim to them. Not me. Gosh, what a surprise there. Now, the journal _Ars Alchemica_ is something I've come across reading other fics. I don't know who came up with it, but it wasn't me. OCs etc belong to me.   
Archive: If you want, just let me know. 

*** *** *** 

**Prologue: Summer Holidays**

"Severus." Severus Snape found himself wishing his name was not quite so… sibilant. Although that really was the least of his worries. 

"I am disappointed." Well of course he was bloody disappointed. Did he think this came as some sort of surprise? Snape tried not to strain against his bonds, having no wish to appear completely undignified before it was strictly necessary. 

"Did you think I would believe in such a pathetic story?" There might have been an element of wishful thinking on his and Dumbledore's parts, Snape admitted to himself. After all, he had been working under Dumbledore's aegis for well over ten years now; had betrayed Death Eater secrets to him. So, no, really, he hadn't expected Voldemort to believe anything he said. Especially anything along the lines of, "Oh, Master, I repent my former ways. I have been seeking to undermine Dumbledore and kill Potter every day." No, he had never really thought that would go down well. 

"You were a dark light in my cause, Severus. I regret having to do this." That was a lie if ever he had heard one. Whatever Voldemort had up his sleeve, Snape seriously doubted that he would regret doing it. _He_ would regret it, because whatever it was, it was going to be very, very unpleasant. 

"_Crucio!_" In the moment before the crushing pain hit him in the chest, harder than the Hogwarts Express, Snape took a pleased instant to note that he was right. 

*** *** *** 

Professor Loveday stalked out of the director's office, her mouth tight-lipped with rage and frustration. Her normally cool expression was a mask of pure anger, and Elfrida Bumble, who had planned to ask her for the day off tomorrow to attend the Puddlemere Annual Broomstick Fair (Elfrida's great-grandfather, a spectacularly unsuccessful broomstick inventor, had left her the grand sum of five thousand galleons, only to be spent on broomsticks), decided on the spur of the moment that she would wait until next year's Puddlemere Annual Broomstick Fair. Other people, seeing Professor Loveday's expression, also steered clear. She was generally acknowledged to be cold to the point of frozen, and rarely even raised her voice, but they couldn't help but remember that one occasion when Griselda Dunuit, a promising seventh year student from Durmstrang, had carelessly added Deadly Nightshade to a particularly delicate experiment, and nearly blown up the entire building. Griselda had been a small heap of weeping robes when Professor Loveday had finished with her. They had no desire to repeat that experience. 

Relieving one small iota of the frustration bubbling inside her, Ianthe Loveday slammed her office door closed behind her. Jaw clenched, she flung herself into her chair. Her eyes fell on the current edition of _Ars Alchemica_. The leading article, _Healing Potions and the Use of Unicorn's Blood_, stared back at her. In a rare exhibition of temper, she hurled the journal at the wall. It fell to the floor, and she glared at it malevolently. They were all so _blind_. Why didn't they see the possibilities, the potential? But say the words "unicorn" and "blood" and all they could think about was the Dark Arts, and bad press for the Institute. And now they were asking her to stop her experiments completely. What was wrong with them? The tension drained from her slowly, and she went over to the wall, bending down to pick the abused journal. She wandered to her desk, and tossed it on top of a pile of books and manuscripts. Unbidden, her hand fell on one of the leather bound books, a heavy tome covered in gilt patterns, and an ornate title proclaiming it to be "_The International Formulary of Magical Potions and Ingredients, Volume V: U-Z_". She picked it up, and it fell open at the same page as always. 

_Unicorn's Blood: Blood from a living unicorn is extremely powerful, as unicorns are purely magical creatures. Its main catalogued use is in elixirs of life, where it is often mixed with other ingredients (see list below); however it is in its purest form that it is most effective. However, use of unicorn's blood without permission is against wizarding law, both within Great Britain, and under the International Federation of Wizards Proclamation of 1239, and is chiefly used whilst practising Dark magic. Slaying a unicorn to obtain its blood leaves that blood tainted, and whilst it will still preserve life, it does so at a cost. The blood of a dead unicorn is poisonous._

The entry continued, but Ianthe knew it by heart as it was, and she closed the book with a dull thud. So many possibilities, but unicorns were such sacred creatures that no one had dared explore them. No one legitimate, anyway. She heaved a sigh, and sat back down, gazing round her office. It was organised and functional, a perfect representation of her working life. One wall was taken up with bookshelves. The top two shelves housed her _Ars Alchemica_ collection. She had the current run of journals from 1983, when her parents had gifted her with a subscription. Before that were others that contained key articles, or ideas that interested her. They went as far back as 1754, but had she wanted to see the earliest editions of that famed journal, the Institute kept a complete back catalogue. The shelves below contained text books on potions, copies of diaries of famous potion makers, treatises and theses by experts around the globe, and the preceding four volumes of the _International Formulary_. On the bottom shelf she kept her Muggle books (_Gray's Anatomy_, and other medical texts) and all her old school books: after all, you never knew when you might need to transfigure a field mouse into a tea cup. 

Against the opposite wall ran a long desk that she used to keep a record of her experiments. She had had, earlier that day, the blossoming of a new idea, and had started her hypothesis, but she wasn't in the mood to continue expanding it. Ianthe's clear head was legendary, but only she knew that when she was emotional she couldn't think. 

"_Accio_ cloak!" she muttered, pointing her wand absently in the direction of the hat stand in the corner. A second later, and the long black cloak was in her hand, and she was just swinging it round her shoulders when the door opened. She turned in irritation, an irritation that grew as she saw who it was. "What can I do for you, Mr Grimley?" She cordially disliked Thomas Grimley, not for any personal reasons (though he was, in most people's opinion, as unpleasant a wizard as you could hope to meet, even for someone who had been a Slytherin at school) but because he had a pedestrian mind. Ianthe had no use for people who couldn't _think_. 

"I heard about your run in with old Nesbitt." 

"Hmm," she replied, non-committedly, hoping he would get to the point quickly before she ended up losing her temper again. Twice in one day - that would definitely be a record. 

"Pack of old women, if you ask me. They don't understand what you could do." 

"No. They don't." 

"You ever thought of working anywhere else. Somewhere where the directorship isn't quite so… restrictive?" Ianthe looked at him with some interest. 

"Got somewhere in mind, do you?" 

"Let's just say I know someone who's looking for someone like you." 


	2. Chapter One

**BLOOD OF THE UNICORNS   
...or Harry Potter and the Potions Professor**

By: Liss Havilland (lisette@chaletian.co.uk)   
Rating: PG-13   
Disclaimer: Not mine. Duh.   
A/N: "Humorous trouble with an escalator" is a small fanfic bow to Victoria Wood's "Acorn Antiques", when Mr Kenneth was "having a lot of humorous trouble with a home-made vol-au-vont". For no reason whatsoever. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter One**

Harry Potter lay on his bed, chin in his hand, flicking over the pages of a _Martin Miggs: The Mad Muggle_ comic that Ron had sent him. A creak sounded outside his door, and he froze in the middle of Martin having a lot of humorous trouble with an escalator, muttering "_Nox!_" so that the light at the end of his wand disappeared. After what seemed like forever the creak sounded again, this time further away. This summer had been better than Harry had expected - Aunt Petunia had been heavily involved in affairs of the Women's Institute, Uncle Vernon had been busy with Grunnings and making sure everyone appreciated his new car, and Dudley had been surprisingly un-Dudley-like - but he still didn't want any one of the Dursleys discovering him reading anything remotely magical. And he was pretty sure that _Martin Miggs_ would fall under that category, especially since the pictures, in common with all wizarding pictures, moved. 

Harry sat up, and tossed the comic under the bed. Tomorrow was September 1st, and he would be on his way back to Hogwarts, where he would have Ron and Hermione to talk to, and Quidditch matches to play… and Potions lessons to get through. But even the thought of Professor Snape and Potions lessons wasn't enough to dampen Harry's excitement at the thought of going back to school. 

The following morning came, and he had made sure everything was back in his trunk. Uncle Vernon still kept it locked in the cupboard under the stairs all summer, but that didn't present much of a problem for Harry (thank you _Standard Book of Spells Grade I_, Chapter VII). _Martin Miggs: The Mad Muggle_ was tucked carefully away, as were the books he had been using for his homework. At breakfast he had waited for Uncle Vernon to make the first move. When he didn't, Harry sighed to himself, then spoke. 

"Uncle Vernon?" A grunt was his only answer, but that was only to be expected: Uncle Vernon had made an art form of ignoring Harry. "I have to catch the train to school today. Can you give me a lift to the station please?" This time, Vernon Dursley looked up. 

"All right then, boy. Just as long as you haven't got any more forms to fill in, or stupid sports matches you want to go to…" 

"There's nothing like that," answered Harry quickly, not wanting to set Uncle Vernon off again. "I just need to get to the station." With much grumbling under his breath, he chivvied Harry into the car, complaining loudly when Hedwig protested at being put in the boot and had to be squashed onto the back seat. An hour later, however, they had reached King's Cross Station, and Uncle Vernon had managed to get Harry, Hedwig and the trunk out of the car in record speed and drive off, leaving Harry looking around for a trolley. Fortunately there were plenty around, and soon he was on the platforms 9 and 10. Looking around, he saw several people from school, but it was not until he had run straight at one of the red brick arches in the middle of the platform that he felt his first term in Hogwarts' Fifth Year had begun. 

The Hogwarts Express, the train that runs between London and Hogsmeade, the wizarding village which stood close to Hogwarts, ran promptly at ten o'clock on September 1st, and at twenty to, the platform (9¾) was seething with students. Harry waved to Fred and George Weasley, who were Gryffindors in the Seventh Year, as they stood with Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson. Further down the platform he caught sight of Dennis and Colin Creevey, two more Gryffindors, and he waved at them as well, then wished he hadn't as Dennis Creevey's chest swelled with importance at being waved at by the famous Harry Potter. Pushing his trolley in front of him, he wandered over to Fred and George. 

"Hey, Harry! How was your summer?" 

"How was Duddiekins?" Harry grinned at the red-headed twins. 

"Pretty subdued. I think he remembered the toffee from last year." One of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had "accidentally" found its way into Dudley's possession, and he had ended up with a tongue about four feet long before Mr Weasley had been able to put it back to normal. The memory still made Harry grin. "D'you know where Ron is?" Fred - or possibly George - pointed to where Ron was being harangued by Mrs Weasley. 

"He's getting the "OWLs speech"," said George - or possibly Fred. "Mum's had plenty of practice with the rest of us, so I reckon she's safe for twenty minutes." 

"Yeah, and then she'll be coming after us with the "NEWTs speech"." The twins blanched at this thought, and started making not-so-subtle moves towards the train. Harry watched them, feeling slightly sorry for himself. The Dursleys didn't care one way or the other if he passed his OWLs. In fact, as far as they were concerned, he could get eaten by a vampire in his Defence Against the Dark Arts practical exam, or get transfigured into a bookend by an over-zealous Hermione Granger. However, he was not left on his own for long. Fred and George's estimate of twenty minutes had been gifting their mother with too much credit (though not by much) and Mrs Weasley was swooping down on him, looking at him with equal parts affection and severity. 

"Now, Harry, I hope you and Ron are going to be working hard for your exams this year, and not getting into any trouble. And I certainly don't want to hear that the two of you have been _looking_ for trouble." She continued at some length, and Harry stood listening to her, amazed at the trouble she took in telling people off. Behind her, Ron was making faces, though he stopped suddenly as Mrs Weasley said, without pausing for breath, "and take that expression off your face, Ronald Weasley!" 

Eventually she finished, and kissed both Ron and Harry on the cheek. "Have a good term, boys. Be good!" though it didn't sound like she had any great hope that they would be. With that, she whisked herself away, presumably to look for Fred and George to give them the "NEWTs speech". Harry and Ron stood watching her for a moment, then grinned at each other. 

"All right then, Harry?" 

"Yeah. How was your summer?" The two boys boarded the train as Ron started complaining about Percy. 

"Honestly, you'd think he'd have learned his lesson after the whole Barty Crouch thing, but now he's all, "Oh, Mr Albion says this, and Mr Albion says that, and Mr Albion wants all magical animals to be tagged and licensed… I think Mr Albion's nuts." Harry wanted to ask who Mr Albion was, but Ron was rushing on. "And he goes on and on and on at dinner, as if any of us really cared." Ron, who was himself quite capable of going on and on and on, was interrupted as someone entered their carriage. Harry jumped up with perhaps more enthusiasm than was warranted. 

"Hermione!" 

"Hi, Harry." Hermione Granger, who was Harry and Ron's best friend, and the best witch in their year, grinned at him. Then she said hello to Ron, with a marked lack of friendliness. 

"Have fun in Bulgaria, did you?" asked Ron sullenly. 

"Yes, thank you," Hermione replied sweetly, before turning back to Harry. 

"How was your holiday, Harry?" He shrugged. 

"Not too bad." 

The train set off, and they were on their way to Hogwarts. Harry felt a thrill of excitement that never seemed to lessen, however many times he caught the train. It didn't take long for him to notice, however, that Ron and Hermione weren't exactly on the best of terms, and the root of it seemed to be Hermione's trip to Bulgaria in August. Harry had received a post card from her (a picture of Viktor Krum on a broomstick) saying that she was having a good time, and it seemed like Ron had got one too, but had objected to Viktor Krum. From the way he was carrying on, you'd think she had sent him a picture of Voldemort, or something. It didn't take long for Hermione to take offence, and she buried herself in a good three feet of manuscript that, from what Harry could see, was covered in different coloured symbols. 

"What's that, Hermione?" he asked after ten minutes of her eyeing it severely. She looked up. 

"Revision timetable," she answered briefly. A snort sounded from where Ron was staring out of the window. Hermione ignored him. "You know how quickly time goes once we get to school. I want to make sure I'm ready when the exams come." Harry thought this was going a bit far, but decided that it might be wiser not to say anything. 

"All this fuss about stupid OWLs," Ron moaned. "Honestly, the way Mum was going on about them you'd think they were life and death." Hermione's expression clearly indicated that she was in complete agreement with Mrs Weasley, but Harry agreed with Ron. There were much more important things going on. "And Percy was trying to force all his books on me and…" Ron looked slightly happier. "Oh, yeah, Harry, I forgot about this." He rummaged in his bag, and produced a slightly dilapidated book. "I found it in Dad's study." Harry opened it, and looked at the front page. "_Divining Disaster: It Could Happen To You!_" He looked up at Ron. 

"A book for Divination?" Ron rolled his eyes. 

"_The_ book. Let's face it, Harry, we were running out of things to happen. This has everything!" He snatched the book back, and started flipping through. "Look, we could get battered to death by an irate fish-monger, or…" He looked for more ideas, ignoring Hermione's groan at the pun, and Harry pulled out _Martin Miggs_. 

"Or get squashed under an escalator," he suggested with a grin. Ron made a grab for the comic, and clutched it to his chest, his expression blissful. 

"My last comic," he sighed after a while, patting it fondly. "Mum took the rest," he explained to Harry, keeping a strong hold on it, in case Mrs Weasley suddenly popped in through the window on a broomstick. "I tried to convince her they were for Muggle Studies, but she wasn't having any. I've got to work." Ron looked gloomy for a moment, then cheered up a bit. "Mind you, as long as I do better than Fred and George, I don't think she'll mind." 

Before long, the train pulled to a halt, and they had arrived in Hogsmeade. Harry leaned out of the window to see if Hagrid was around, Ron stretched noisily, and Hermione started busily gathering her things together. 

"See him?" asked Ron, and Harry was about to reply, when it became unnecessary. 

"Firs' years! All firs' years, over here!" Clumps of smaller children scuttled towards the school goundkeeper. It was easy to tell those who came from Muggle families, as they looked at Hagrid as if he might grind their bones for bread any minute. The children from wizard families usually knew all about Hagrid, and were greeting him with grins. Harry, Ron and Hermione waved, then followed the rest of their classmates towards the big carriages that would convey them to Hogwarts. Once they arrived, they shuffled into the great hall, and sat down at the Gryffindor table, looking around to see what, if anything, was new. 

"Hey! Where's Snape?" It was Dean Thomas speaking, and at his words, Harry turned towards the high table where the professors were sitting. Dean was right - there they all were: Professor Dumbledore, sitting in the middle, Professor McGonnagall on his right, Professors Sprout, Flitwick, Vector, and all the rest, including Hagrid. Other than Snape, the only teacher absent was Professor Trelawney, who took them for Divination, but as she rarely attended school meals (according to her, it "clouded her inner eye" - an announcement that had caused Ron to nearly choke to death as he tried not to laugh). Seamus Finnigan, another Gryffindor in their year, shrugged. 

"He's probably around somewhere." 

"Lurking," contributed Neville Longbottom, who had more than enough cause to be acquainted with Professor Snape's propensity for that particular pastime. He looked over his shoulder fearfully, as if he expected his nemesis to pop up behind him and deduct ten points for... well, being Neville. But the hall remained Snape-free, and Neville's mood improved noticeably. The conversation moved on to Quidditch, and Gryffindor's chances for the cup, only Harry still distracted by Snape's absence. He couldn't help but remember what had happened at the end of last year, and wondered if Snape had perhaps been caught by Voldemort - or gone back to him, because for all Dumbledore trusted Snape (and, Harry had to admit, that trust didn't seem to be misplaced), Harry himself couldn't quite bring himself to do the same. 

All conversations came to a halt as the big doors opened, and the first years came pouring into the hall. Some of them looked downright scared, and Ron and Harry grinned at each other, remembering all too well how they had felt their first time - especially since Ron had been under the impression that he might have to fight a troll, and Harry had been sure his mere presence was a terrible mistake that would soon be found out. 

The Sorting Hat sang its latest song. It had decided to abandon the tried and true rhyming couplets theme, and gone for limericks, with entertaining results, but eventually the new students were sorted and Dumbledore rose for the start of term announcements. The Forest was off limits to all students, any student breaking curfew would Very Seriously Regret It, and Professor Snape was taking a sabbatical in order to do some research, and would be replaced, for the time being, by a Professor Loveday, who was very highly qualified. With that, and the words, "Nunshead, Peckham, Dulwich," the feast appeared on the tables. Conversation was limited, by necessity to, "Pass the potatoes," and it wasn't until they were headed for their dormitories that Harry could ask Ron about the massive grin that had almost split his face when Dumbledore announced the new potions professor's name. 

"This is brilliant!" Ron crowed. "Snape's gone, and that's the best news ever! With any luck he won't come back and..." 

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" The sharp words came from behind them, and Harry, Ron and Neville turned round in surprise to see a stranger standing there, arms akimbo. Severe black robes hung down in careful folds, brushing the ground. A pointed hat obscured all but the slightest hint of red hair. And a distinctly unpleasant expression graced the face of a woman who couldn't be anyone else but their new potions professor. Professor Loveday, I presume, thought Harry, but judged it wiser, under the circumstances, not to open his mouth. Such a thought obviously didn't occur to Ron. He gaped at her in surprise. 

"What?" 

"For showing a complete lack of respect for your elders and betters." 

"But-" 

"And another five for arguing." Professor Loveday's expression was as stern as Snape's ever had been, and it was quite clear that any anticipation over the possibilities inherent in Snape's absence would be very shortly quashed. She stalked off, the stiff material of her robes swishing lightly over the stone floor, leaving the fifth year Gryffindors staring after her. Harry turned to face Ron, who was looking as if he'd been hit by a brick. 

"What was that all about?" he asked to no-one in particular. 


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Term continued apace, with the teachers piling more and more work on, much to the despair of much of the year. OWLs seemed to have taken on a new importance, as they blotted out all thoughts of what might be coming. The events of their Fourth Year were still fresh, and the possibility of Voldemort's appearance weighed heavily. While the younger students seemed unaffected, their elders, for the most part, knew better, and the situation was not helped by the fact that five Slytherins in the fifth, sixth and seventh years had not returned from the summer holidays, including Draco Malfoy. Which, as Ron pointed out, could only be a good thing. Harry, however, wasn't so sure. Returning to Hogwarts had made him remember Cedric Diggory again, and, try as he might, he couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was going to happen. This wasn't helped by Malfoy's sudden disappearance, or Snape's "sabbatical". 

Potions lessons, however, had improved. Only in one respect, but an important one: Professor Loveday was impartial in her criticism and sarcasm. Be you a Slytherin or a Gryffindor, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, if you got it wrong, you heard about it. Unfortunately, she had as little - or possibly less - patience than Snape, so for people like Neville, the lessons were still something to fear. 

Five weeks into term it was Ron who managed to melt his cauldron whilst trying to make a levitation potion. It wasn't as complex as some of the potions they'd been doing, but Ron hadn't been paying much attention (having mastered _Wingardium Leviosa_ in the first year, he was rather blasé about levitation) and had ended up with a week's detention. 

"I don't know why she's acting like this," he moaned to Harry and Hermione after spending the evening with Filch and Mrs Norris. "I thought she'd be nicer." 

"Why?" asked Harry idly, as he sat in the Gryffindor common room, polishing his broomstick, and carefully snipping the odd wayward twig. "Seems to me that all potions professors are as bad as each other." 

"Well, if you paid attention in lessons, Ron, maybe she would be nicer." Hermione's tone was cutting, and Ron glared at her. Harry sighed. Why his two best friends had to argue all the time, he had no idea. It got a bit annoying, really, having them always sniping at each other. However, before they could really get going, there came the sound of running footsteps, and Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil came rushing into the common room, both of them looking pale and scared. 

"Whassamatter?" asked Ron around a mouthful of Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans. 

"Come and see," whispered Lavender, and they followed the two girls out of the entrance to Gryffindor Tower into the corridor. It was awash with what looked like silver paint, and Harry and Ron looked at it, bemused. Hermione knelt down, and touched a finger to it. She swivelled round to gaze at them, her expression serious. 

"I-I think it's unicorn's blood." They stared at her, then Harry got down on his knees as well, and reached out, but before he could touch it the sound of staccato footsteps echoed down the corridor, and Professor McGonnagall swept up, followed by Professor Loveday. The two women looked at the little group before them, and the pool of silver liquid. 

"What is this?" enquired Professor McGonnagall abruptly. 

"Unicorn's blood, I think, Professor." Professor Loveday looked at Hermione sharply. 

"How do you know?" 

"I've seen it before. In the first year, when someone killed a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest," she clarified. Professor Loveday frowned, but forebore to say anything, and Professor McGonnagall ushered the students away, back into the tower. Parvati and Lavender went straight into the common room, eager to tell everyone what had happened, but Harry, Ron and Hermione hovered behind the portrait, and were rewarded as they heard Professor McGonnagall speak. 

"Was the unicorn…murdered?" Her voice was unusually tentative, and the three friends held their breath waiting for the answer, knowing full well what the answer could portend. There was a moment's silence, then a low voice answered. 

"Yes." 

"There can be no doubt?" 

"None at all. This is very serious, Minerva." 

"Yes, yes." But the Transfiguration professor's voice was vague, and she said suddenly, "Deal with it, please, Ianthe. I don't want any of the other students to see it." 

They heard her leave, then there was silence again, followed shortly by foosteps as Professor Loveday also walked away. Harry carefully opened the portrait door, and peered out. 

"It's okay," he said, looking back over his shoulder. "They've gone." He jumped out, Ron and Hermione at his heels. 

"The blood's gone too," observed Ron, fortunately not seeing Hermione as she rolled her eyes. "Do you suppose… You Know Who…?" He didn't need to finish his question. Hermione looked solemn, but Harry shrugged. 

"Seems a bit of a waste. I mean, if he still needs unicorn's blood to stay alive, why chuck it around the school? And how would anyone have got in? They're stricter than ever, and they've got loads of charms and stuff." 

"Someone from inside the school, then, trying to scare us." Hermione bit her lip, deep in thought, then her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth in horror. She turned on her heel, and went running down the corridor. Harry and Ron exchanged bewildered looks, then took off after her. She stopped, not surprisingly, outside the library. They went inside, and she made a bee-line for the shelves where the various magical journals were kept. Passing over _Transfiguration Today_, _Which Broomstick_, and _Divining Divination_, she gave a triumphant squeak, and grabbed the latest copy of the potions journal, _Ars Alchemica_. 

"I was doing a bit of research," she explained, as she flicked through the journal, "and came across this - no, it's not in this one." She flung it aside carelessly, and the cavalier attitude from Hermione, who, as far as Harry and Ron could tell, practically worshipped books, made them blink. She ran her fingers along the spines of the other journals, then started pulling them out. "Aha! This is the one!" She displayed the front. 

"_Healing Potions and the Use of Unicorn's Blood_," read Harry. "So?" Hermione shook it at him. 

"Look who wrote it." Ron took the journal from her, and flicked open to the right page. 

"Professor Ianthe Loveday." Hermione nodded, and looked at them significantly, taking the journal back from Ron. 

"She's an expert in unicorn's blood," she explained. "Listen: 'Ianthe Loveday is a research professor at the Thaddeus Bindleweed Institute for Experimental Potions, where she has pioneered experiments for potions involving unicorn's blood. She attended Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry before studying Advanced Potions at the Idlewild Academy in Shrewsbury.'" 

"No." Ron's voice was emphatic, and Harry and Hermione looked at him in surprise. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but he was too quick for her. "No, Hermione. Professor Loveday is _not_ a Death Eater." 

"Ron-" 

"Well, that's what you were going to say, isn't it?" 

"Ron, think about it! We all know-" and here Hermione suddenly looked around cautiously, aware for the first time that this wasn't really a conversation that should be happening in public - "that Professor Snape was going to spy on Voldemort. And we get back after the holidays, and he's not here, and Professor Loveday's suddenly appeared. And a unicorn's murdered and she's an expert in how to make their blood heal people. I mean, come on, Ron! You've got to admit it's suspicious." But Ron was obstinate. 

"No way, Hermione. You've got it all wrong." Hermione, who never took kindly to being told she was wrong, especially by Ron, glared at him. 

"How would you know?" she asked rudely. "And apart from anything else, what's she doing here? I mean, she's a research professor at one of the biggest academic institutes in the country, and she suddenly decides to come and teach elementary potions to a bunch of kids? And it's not as if she even _likes_ teaching." 

"She's a Loveday!" Ron shouted at her. Hermione and Harry both looked at him blankly and he groaned. "I keep forgetting you two come from Muggle families. Look, the Lovedays are an old wizarding family." 

"Like the Malfoys?" Harry didn't see that this was a good reason for Professor Loveday not to be a Death Eater. 

"More like the Weasleys," replied Ron. His expression was earnest as he continued. "We've known them for years. Professor Loveday's younger sister was a Gryffindor with Bill and Charlie. Actually, I think she might have gone out with Bill for a while. Anyway, they're good people." 

"Just because her family's nice doesn't mean anything," objected Hermione. "Look at Harry's family. They're vile, and he's still okay." 

"It's not the same, Hermione. It would be like…like Fred and George suddenly ending up as Death Eater, or even Percy. It would never happen." 

"So that's why you were so happy when Professor Dumbledore announced her at the start of term," said Harry out of the blue. Ron nodded, but before he could say anything, Hermione was off again. 

"Yes, and look how wrong you were there. I think Professor Loveday is up to something." And with that, she swept out of the library, leaving behind a seething Ron. 

"She thinks she's so smart," he complained bitterly, kicking the table leg. Harry shrugged. 

"She usually is." Ron glared at him. 

"I suppose you think she's right about this, don't you. Well, thanks a lot, Harry." Without giving Harry time to say a word, he stormed off as well, making a first year Ravenclaw jump back in surprise as he flung open the library door. 

Ron and Hermione's behaviour was sadly reminiscent of their third year after that, as they spent much of their time pointedly ignoring each other. What was most odd, though, was Hermione's behaviour in Potions classes. Normally eager to please (with the noted exception of Professor Trelawney), Hermione seemed to take delight in being as rude as possible to Professor Loveday which, in Harry's opinion, wasn't the cleverest thing to do. After all, if the professor _was_ a Death Eater, which seemed possible, though there wasn't really any evidence to prove it, it probably wasn't a good idea to make her suspicious. Maybe, thought Harry, she was trying to provoke Professor Loveday into actually _doing_ some dark magic, but if that was the reason, it wasn't working, because the professor remained as cool as ever, though she was taking a lot of points off Gryffindor, until Angelina Johnson, who was their head of house, had to have a word with Hermione. Hermione's behaviour improved, and she and Ron started speaking to each other again (sort of) and life returned to some semblance. There was no more unicorn's blood, and Hermione was overheard to say that perhaps they had been a little hasty. 

But then they found the second years. 


End file.
